AB KI BAR TRUMP SARKAR

Trump(ets) are back with a bang. After four years in oblivion, this piece of instrument ridiculed for its non stop cacophony,  is once again music to the ears of the Americans, the song being played is "Roses are red and Violets are blue, Don is red and Kamla is blue". The mood is blue in the Kamala camp as there was just no 'kamaal' no ‘sur' no ‘taal' just some 'dhamaal'. The Kamla ‘Na Pasand' is the flavour now. Sound  travels in sinusoidal waves is a well known fact, which has its crests and troughs, so true to its character, this music has been up, down and up again. The band MAGA is going gaga, to the horror of the original Lady Gaga. With Trump(ets) making a grand comeback, typically the other pieces of ensemble have gone into a sulk, as Trumpets rule the choir to the chagrin of the rest. When they are blown, others simply submit and play second fiddle. Drums have become subdued, violins are high strung, pianos are off key, trombones  have lost their scale. They have been in a sombre melancholy mood and are already considering moving in for the Cadenza (handing over to the soloist, when the band stops playing).

Game of thrones has given way to the good old game of cards, where the deck has trumped all the rest, making it a spectacular rubber (Bridge). ‘No Trumps’ bid has been sent packing. The Reds are pleased as punch on this turnaround of fortunes, they played it by the ear literally as it was the ear which bore the brunt of the wannabe assassin's bullet.  Taking a cue from his namesake, Donald has once again staked a claim to the Disney throne of toons with support from his Uncle Scrooge, sending Mickey, Goofy and their ilk running for cover. Big Macs from McDonald have heaved a huge sigh of relief and all the big guns are polishing up for the Guard of Honour. Elon Musk  has effectively put to use the great  Indian Bun Musk(a) trick and  is revelling in the unabashed buttering. With Vance and Usha in tow US awaits  a bright morning ahead keeping the Indian connection with the VEEP in tact. The pets too are celebrating as they no longer need to dread being reduced to the cut de sac of the food chain.  

 With due apologies to Lord Byron,“Don Juan, wrapp'd in victorious elation, sauntered on the elevated stage, …………resurrection awaits it, each new meeting or election.” Indians are blowing their conch shells, hoping that the war ravaged world will get some sanity and respite and the ‘deep state’  may even be put to deep sleep. ABKI BAR TRUMP SARKAR!!

OUT OF THE BOX THINKING

 

In the Armed Forces, the senior hierarchy normally exhorts the youngsters to indulge in “Out of the box thinking”. The irony of this sermon is that most of them themselves have been treading the beaten path, as that is safe and secure. Any deviations and you are treading in a dangerous zone, where a failure may end up in premature culmination of a promising professional career.  As they say ‘better to be safe than sorry’, so no unnecessary risks is the mantra for success. 

But ‘nothing ventured nothing gained’ and while sticking to the laid down SOPs are ok for peace time activities, operations are a different ball game altogether. No operational plan survives the first bullet being fired. All contingency planning comes to a nought, as the adversary surprises you with an altogether different approach. This creative ‘out of the box’ thinking is absolutely essential for mere survival in counter insurgency operations, one has to think like the terrorist to be able to defeat him. 

I am sure all of us are seized of this dictum, but the million dollar question remains as to how do we inculcate this in the youngsters. First and foremost, our system of assessment for professional courses and exams needs a de novo look. I will illustrate this with a simple example, I was preparing for Staff College Entrance Exam along with a friend who is from the Special Forces during our Pre-Staff Course. We were attempting a Cordon and Search appreciation as a practice test, while I followed the script, he followed what he actually did during the operations. During the discussions I tried explaining to him the need to stick to the script, but he felt otherwise. As luck would have it, our Tactics “B” paper had us attempting a Cordon & Search operation itself and sure enough, I qualified, while he couldn’t. 

Same story is repeated during the War games, Operational Alert exercises etc, Red or Yellow Land always ends up losing it, even if their Commander had a better plan. Aim being that wrong lesson of Blue Land succumbing should not be taken home, but I think it is actually counter productive as the whole thing is stage managed and ingenuity or innovative thinking is given a short shrift. 

To be able to think differently, one has to be creative and of a fertile imagination, only then one can conceive “Out of the box” plans and this must be practised and encouraged during peace time activities. If all our lives, we haven’t done it, we can’t suddenly become a Guderian, Rommel  or Zorawar during war. Creativity has to be nurtured and leaders need to be given this opportunity to indulge in these activities on a day to day basis. To be able to act out of the box, one has to first think out of the box, but our thinking process has become so straightjacketed with years of regimentation that this knot needs a deliberate effort to disentangle.

Encourage creativity by motivating the young officers to pursue a hobby, writing, painting, music, photography, dance, anything at all, but this aspect needs to be addressed as a vital trait of character and should be commented upon by the officers in chain of command. Originality has become a rare commodity, especially in this era of Artificial Intelligence where Chatgpt rules the roost. By no stretch of imagination am I advocating that creative pursuits be  the only criteria for judging an individual, but unless he or she finds that it has a productive value, it will not be an honest effort. Our question papers in Promotion exams should also not be rote based, but rely on ground knowledge acquired in the units. Similarly our thesis during Higher Command and NDC must focus on challenging topics which are not the usual run of the mill topics which have been thrashed out a million times already with nothing substantial emerging as an output. Articles in the magazines published by our think tanks are also not meeting international standards. May be making military history campaigns and biographies an yearly effort for all officers will nudge them towards professional reading, as even that aspect is highly neglected. 

Since we are highly regimented, we have ourselves created the proverbial box, we follow drills, procedures, SOPs thus remaining in the box. To set ourselves free and break these shackles we need an outlet where we don’t get stuck, that is where these creative pursuits will help. We also need to get rid of this tyranny of ranks, mere seniority in rank does not anoint anyone as the ultimate knower of the truth. The urge to be a “Yes” man stems from this very fact, wisdom and seniority are not always complementary. Professional respect is earned by your deeds and reputation in the organisation and not by your rank per se. So youngsters shun this timidity and bash on regardless, be original, be creative, because that will breed excellence. 

INFANTRY : THE QUEEN OF THE BATTLE

 Today is Infantry Day, now isn’t that funny? Why do I find it funny or should I say ironic, well, isn’t everyday of the year the Infantarian’s day! Infantry, the Queen of the battle, is at work, 24 x 7 for 365 days without a break, be it war, peace or what we in the Army refer to as NWNP (“No War No Peace”). Be it Kashmir, the North East, Ladakh, Disaster Management or United Nations Peacekeeping, as though they don’t have enough on their hands already. They are the Atlases of our Armed Forces who take on the load of the Globe without any unnecessary bravado. “When it was victory, the cavalier claimed it outright, the gunner boasted of his calibre, the sapper and the signaller publicised their worth, but the infantryman stood silent with victory at his feet”.

Despite the world having progressed by leaps and bounds in terms of technology and the evolution or revolution of warfare into a highly technical arena, ultimately it is the “boots on the ground” which decide the victor or the vanquished. An infantry soldier is the epitome of courage and fortitude against all odds, he stands like a colossus be it Maj Somnath Sharma with his arm in a sling, conveying in no uncertain terms his resolve not to withdraw an inch against heavy odds and laying down his life protecting the Kashmir Valley from the marauders, or Maj Shaitan Singh and his Kumaonis in Chushul, who defied waves after waves of Chinese before laying down their lives. Battle of Saragarhi, the story of unmatched valour of 21 Sikh soldiers is etched in the annals of history, winning accolades from even the Britishers in their parliament even in the heydays of colonial Raj. Subedar Joginder Singh in NEFA, Abdul Hamid in the Khemkaran Sector in 1965 Indo-Pak war, Maj Hoshiar Singh in Jarpal in 1971 war, Subedar Major Bana in Siachen or Col Babu and his brave Biharis who gave a bloody nose to the Chinese in Galwan in 2020, the infantry has always delivered the knockout punch. If I start describing just the actions of gallantry awardees alone, I will run out of words in my limited vocabulary, so suffice to say that these men are a class apart, each one a king, he is self sufficient in every sense of the word. With his weapon, he is a deadly foe, ask any adversary, the infantry has its own “topkhana”, the mortars, they have their sappers, the “pioneers”, their signallers with their radio sets so they can independently, by themselves go into battle. That does not mean the others are mere appendages, each one plays a part but without the infantry, the armour or the artillery or the sappers by themselves can’t do what the infantry can. Like the "Queen" in the game of Chess, Infantry can go just about anywhere and everywhere, hence the moniker. No wonder they are the "Ultimate".

The Armed Forces or for that matter, everything else in the world revolves around certain symbols, like our ‘Tricolour’ or the ‘Ashoka Pillar’, similarly Infantry Day is being commemorated on 27 Oct 1947,  the day the first Sikh troops  landed in Kashmir Valley. Others celebrate their raising day, Infantry has always been there since times immemorial, so there can be no raising day, Battle Honours.. well every instance where they have gone into battle is an honour which they earned and richly deserved. Like the motto of the mighty Rajputana Rifles, “Veer Bhogya Vasundhara” (Only the braves inherit the earth!). We salute our brethren, our comrades in arms on this day.

Newspaper Vs Ad Flyer

The morning cuppa and newspaper are like the proverbial twins, just one of them on the table leaves you craving for the other. Old habits die hard, we grew up watching our fathers doing the same and we just sort of followed the tradition. I am speaking for our generation who were born in the sixties or earlier, may be some of the 70s generation too would be similarly placed. The millennials entered into the complex web of internet world and jettisoned such distractions altogether, tea gave way to coffee and the mobile replaced the newspaper. But this blog is not about nostalgia, as we still get our newspaper in the mornings and relish it,  only change being that it is with 'hibiscus' tea now. What I miss though are the front page headlines screaming at you giving you the gist at just a glance. The front pages have now been usurped by the advertisements and although some of them are quite captivating with beautiful damsels on the cover laden with exquisite branded jewellery, but alas, news content is hidden underneath. It is no longer a newspaper but just another flyer containing promotions and endorsements of various brands.

Now I know some of you will call me a spoilsport as setting your eyes on a pretty face early in the morning naturally augurs well for the day ahead, especially with the headlines containing gory details of the heinous crimes committed all over our huge subcontinent of a nation of 140 crores and counting. True to some extent, no doubt, after all I am not a sadist and don't enjoy the miseries of others, but the point which my friends may be missing out is the danger to their precarious finances being posed with the alluring ads for all kinds of jewellery and other such highly desirable articles to entice the mistresses of the house. Ladies, mind you are immediately gravitate towards any such object like bees on a flower, and then what follows does not need any description as that is then "ghar ghar ki kahani". That is not the only grouse of mine, we were used to a newspaper with ads to support the revenue, as we understood the business model for the print houses. Today the whole thing has been turned on its head, with ads actually being the content and news forming just an appendage almost like the appendix, a vestigial organ. The readers may recall the good old radio programme 'Vividh Bharti' on All India radio and how we enjoyed listening to lilting music without any interruptions for a commercial break. Today we have to suffer a plethora of  FM radio channels, which actually peddle just products with breaks for songs. Thankfully Vividh Bharti is still running and if you want to switch from the cacophony being aired by the FM channels,  you may try switching to it, it will bring you some solace. 

The Times of India types obviously miss the "common man" of the genius that was RK Laxman, his wit was incomparable and left us demanding more always. The other thing that I miss in the journals are the once ubiquitous "middles", which brought a smile on our faces amidst all the serious happenings in and around the world. So much so that I have resorted to writing these myself in an effort to keep at least some of you amused with my amateur efforts. So here goes....

Keep on Running

NK just completed the Chicago Marathon, late Jogi Chandana ran all the way from Gateway of India to India Gate a couple of years ago, these guys are in their 50s when others like us have already decided that just ambling around for a leisurely stroll on the promenade is good enough for our daily regimen of exercise. The rest of the day is spent putting the thumb to good use on the mobile, the part of the body which has suddenly acquired a different kind of halo around it. Thank God that during the Mahabharata times there were no mobiles else Dear Eklavya survived without archery but he definitely would have succumbed without the mobile swiping. Today I have to ignore the other limbs and focus on the exploits of the lower limb only. 

Ever since we learned to walk, most of us started to run around first in circles and then running circles around the rest. But serious kind of running commenced when I joined RIMC  Dehradun as an eleven year old and was taken for the introductory run to Tapkeshwar Temple (Droplets of water fall on the Shivling here in the cave, hence the name). Later we graduated to running upto Forest Research Institute and back. Being a shammer, I was not amongst the front runners, always an "also ran" pun intended.  I could never understand why do people run as an exercise, when there are better methods for keeping fit I mean you could play a game of Football, Hockey, Basket Ball or any racquet game. Running was so monotonous, just 'keep on running' inspired by Spencer David's song may be. I would rather go and play a game than run cross country any day. But then the Training Academies have their own method to bring the shammers to heel and our worthy seniors do the rest. So post lunch the Cross Country Captain (CCC) of the squadron charts out a route for practice run, which is meant to pay homilies to the virtues of the peaks and troughs of Khadakwasla such as Ralle-Rasi, Karpa, 2475, Pashan-Periphery, 7 milestone and Sinhgarh to name a few. These CCCs are in a different league from the other appointments in the academy viz the ACC, BCC etc, as they are generally self appointed who derive pleasure in the misery of the 'also ran' types, who would rather take a much needed post lunch siesta than spend the precious time exploring the geographical features. Just to bring some solace I think the stragglers must have assigned interesting names to these features which resembled anatomy of the feminine gender, I wonder whether these days these features have been rechristened with gender sensitivity being more of a norm. 

Anyway we had no option but to run along and in the words of DCC Francis Kurgat, the man mountain from Kenya, whose tip for the final cross country was to keep it simple, just sprint in the Glider Dome, to get ahead of the pack of 1500 cadets, not realising that for most of us this Dome itself spelt our 'Doom'. Then he exhorted us to just not let anyone overtake us till we reached the R Hill where most of us just walked up as we were literally a spent force by then. R Hill has been abbreviated by design as (samajhane wale samajh gaye jo na samjhe wo anadi hain), this feature separated the men from the boys, the infantry from the armour, a formidable military obstacle, where we walked and the medallists and first enclosure types ran. Thereafter it was downhill so just let yourself go and you will find yourself amongst the medallists. There were a few from other squadrons including my course-mates,  Ravi Murugan, Babu Francis, Paul Bastine, Reddy, Awadhesh Bharti who paid heed and did their squadron and our course proud. Incidentally I was lucky to participate in the inaugural Pune marathon in 1984, so despite my credentials of being a shammer,  or may be because of that I was nominated to run this event. Of course I have stayed away from any such temptation thereafter. Some of our foreign trainees would remark tongue in cheek that if they ran cross country they will literally cross their country itself. Alas we could not seek refuge under this excuse.

At IMA, we had to run the 10 mile in battle gear, which most of us made it in excellent time. Army ensured we remained fit through the time tested Battle Physical Efficiency Test (BPET), Physical Proficiency Test (PPT), the latter being applicable till we attained 50 years of age. Surprisingly the guys who are running international marathons these days like my friend NK, Upadhye and late Jogi  did not figure amongst the medallists in the academy. I often tell them, if they had run well then, they would not need to make amends now. That of course is in lighter vein, actually we all are extremely proud of their stupendous fitness and achievements, while many of us are actually struggling  just to be able to jog. I am eagerly waiting to recover from my achilles tendon injury to be able to get back to the occasional short jogs, which I miss dearly. So keep on running guys..

Fasting or Feasting

 Navratri is the season for garba, Durga pooja and fasting. While garba and the pooja festivities are  being enjoyed, I was contemplating as to why do people fast? Apparently they wish to wash away their sins, indulge in a little soul nourishing and generally feel good about being involved in a spiritual activity of sorts. I wonder who coined the term "fast" for an activity which is actually to slow things down,  I would like to believe even our metabolism slows down, perhaps to enable us to reflect on our inner self. Then why this term, well I suppose English is not a scientific language, such dichotomies are not unusual. Incidentally in Hindi a fast can be a simple "vrat" which most of us observe, where we don't have to resort to total abstinence from food and intake is permitted with certain restrictions or it can be "upwas", where one has to totally abstain from food. 

Most of us follow the former, i.e. "vrat", observe a fast, where we can actually 'feast'. Traditionally at home, we have been observing these "f(e)asts" on some special occasions such as Maha Shivratri, Krishna Janmashtami and during Maha-Ashtami both the Spring and Autumn ones. As kids we would eagerly await these festivals, as the ‘carte du jour’ was a splendid spread of mouth watering delicacies and the best part was 

that it was supposed to be partaken as a spiritual activity. Apart from  the basket of choicest seasonal fruits, the fare commenced with tapioca pearls commonly known as Sago or Sabudana, its khichdi and kheer with generous dose of potato chips as accompaniments, thereafter there were sweets such as ‘halwa’, no, not the usual Wheat or Gram Flour one, but made from flour of the exotic sounding ‘water chestnut’ or Singhara in common parlance. Now don’t be disheartened if you feel that the traditional breads and vegetables are off the menu, you are in for a surprise, pooris or parathas of flour made out of kattu or rajgira or singhara is permitted with certain vegetables such as bottle gourd or the all weather potatoes which the French refer to as 'Pom de Terre' meaning "apple of the earth".  Of course Yogurts, Cheese and all other dairy products are more than welcome, which implies that desserts such as Shrikhand too forms part of the menu during the spring months. Some of us would naturally scoff at this concept and practice of fasting but mind you we must consider the original purpose of indulging in this supposed abstinence, well it was to be mindfully aware of all the activities which we involved ourselves with, or in other words be ‘meditative’. So here we are, savoir in our belief that we are totally immersed in the gastronomic delights, and thereby embarking on the path of spirituality. In 

North India, people generally abstain from alcohol and non-vegetarian food during this period and their penance is such that on the Dushehra  day itself they not only vanquish Ravan but all the demons in the form of poultry and livestock with vengeance and enjoy their favourite elixirs to celebrate the occasion. The officers messes in Indian Army also adhere to the Tuesdays abstinence unwritten rule where no non-vegetarian food is served and the tipplers have to suffer a dry day. 

Interestingly while all the religions follow some sort of fasting during certain holy periods, Islam during Ramadan, Christianity during Lent, Jains and Buddhists too, but Zorostrians   or Parsis don't have any such qualms.  Mahatma Gandhi introduced fasting as a non violent means to achieve an end. Hippocrates who is supposedly the father of 'medical fasting', advocated it in certain cases where the patient is prescribed 'abstinence from food' as the preferred mode of treatment. These days of course we hear about 'intermittent fasting' where the person is expected to abstain for a fixed number of hours in a day, i.e. generally refrain for about 16 hours in a day. Doctors confirm that autophagy (consumption of body's own tissues) commences when the body is starved of nutrition which is a healthy process and helps rejuvenate the body.

Be that as it may, as far as I am concerned, with my lean built I am convinced any autophagy will result in extreme starvation so for us the feast form of fasting has been ordained by the Almighty Himself, so just bring them on..

Golfing or Goofing

 Why don't you play Golf? My friends ask me often, now that Achille's tendon injury has put paid to my forays  on the Squash and Tennis Courts. Having spent almost half a century in uniform, sports and physical activities are as essential as the morning cuppa or the morning newspaper. A day without any activity i.e. a sedentary day is the worst nightmare that most of us  dread the most. The mood is grouchy, kids avoid you and the mistress of the house keeps you at an arm's length. But throw in an outdoor activity and we are rejuvenated, become our usual boisterous chirpy selves again. Kids know that they can ask for the moon and it shall not be denied in these euphoric moments of bliss. So golf should be good enough, it's played outdoors after all. Frankly it is not that I don't indulge in this vice called golf but there are reasons why I could not make much headway.

In the year of the Lord 1999, when the millennium was coming to an end and the world was scared about the impact of Y2K, I was bitten by this bug of golfing. I was headed to Defence Services Staff College at Wellington, which incidentally is in the state of Tamil Nadu in close proximity to Ooty. Thankfully the name change bug has spared this salubrious heaven in the Nilgiris. As is the unwritten norm in the Army that a psc ( Staff College Course qualified) officer must be a golfer as it was considered a prerequisite for scaling the steep pyramid of military hierarchy. Golf courses were the perfect arena for rubbing shoulders with the high and mighty everywhere including the Corporate world. Times have changed, now of course, golf and golf courses are not the places to frequent, instead cycling, running to remain fit is the mantra these days. But back then, possession of a golf set and a decent 18 handicap was considered an asset.  Sure enough I went ahead and procured a used half set from a friend and course-mate, the game is not for the chicken hearted and unless you have deep pockets just stay away. Pre-Sixth Pay Commission, a young Major's take home salary was barely enough to survive for the month. But sacrifices have to be made, so compromise solution was buying a half set, at a princely sum of 9000 which was equivalent to two month's take home salary.  For the uninitiated a half set is half the number of clubs, (a full set comprises 14 of them in the bag while on the course), which suffice for a beginner to get on the course. Since I was at Mhow then, I dutifully hit the driving range to hit a few balls and get acquainted with the sport. There were no coaches here but I did get to watch Mukesh Kumar, the caddie turned professional golfer practising once in a while.

Inspired and motivated I too started off, at first I thought this should be child's play, after all having played decent hockey in the academy where a moving ball needed to be connected and hit, and being a winger I was pretty good at that. But  this small little 'dimpled devil' is a different kettle of fish altogether, as it has its own mind and enjoys putting us in our place by deciding to take the trajectory that she chooses, not where it was intended to traverse. Why am I referring to her in the feminine gender, well do I even need to explain that? We strike the ball alright, but it flies in a curve in the opposite direction where it was intended to be despatched. With different clubs it behaves in an even more erratic manner. Sometimes it was our stance, or our swing or the posture, then it was our approach and if all that was addressed, the wind direction played a spoilsport. A few practise swings for the muscle memory to do the needful, but in my case the muscles suffer from short term memory loss and invariably go bonkers leaving me cursing just about everything under the Sun for the horrible shot that I just executed. The caddie or the friendly four ball chip in and say you looked up just a wee bit early. You know it was the anxiety which forced me to look up and watch the trajectory. Just when we are about to throw in the towel, she (the ball) gets into the benevolent mood and chooses to land where it was directed, in a tease, keeping us hooked for that occasional sweet spot hit and flight.

But the battle was far from over, I landed up in Wellington, where the Golf course of WGC (Wellington Gymkhana Club) is amongst the most picturesque courses in the world. Located amidst tea gardens, undulating sloped fairways, greens either below the tee or at a vertical sixty degree height precariously designed that if you miss it, you simply roll down to where you teed off from. Keeping up with the bisons and the other wildlife for company, I too embarked on this roller coaster, little realising that we have to contend with the caddies, who are supposed to be your friend, philosopher and guide carrying your golf set, advising you on the club to use, the slope of the green etc. Novices like me who invariably hit what is referred to as rough in golf parlance, which  actually is an area, which is heavily wooded  with thick undergrowth. There is no way in hell that the ball can be retrieved from there by ordinary mortals, but caddies have divine eyes, like Sanjay of Mahabharata, they can see exactly where the ball landed, albeit  with a twist, they do not let this secret out to  the Dhritrashtra like golfer, but quietly pocket the ball to be sold to us at a discounted 'used ball' price later. Golf sets are expensive, so are the balls and the other accessories, so used balls are often used for our routine golfing, with new sleeves being retained for special occasions. 

My idea of a successful round on the course was when I returned with 'all balls' in tact, pun intended. Getting back to the accessories, a golfer who is not outrageously attired isn't one, so the shorts or trousers must be in shocking colours, shoes laden with spikes, gloves, shades, bags for carrying the balls etc. I finally did get the hang of it to some extent. Over the years I did manage to hold my handicap of 18 and in fact at one point of time, they even brought it down to 16 when I started to hit the course regularly. Normally golfers aren’t very happy when their handicap goes down as they lose out on the strokes which they earn from their opponents in the four ball, but I was overjoyed as it finally was a vindication that I could actually play the game. Alas that was short-lived, as soon I was back to what is normally referred to as social golfing by bad golfers, where they play 24 to 36 handicap game,

but enjoy the friendly banter of their regular four ball, and if they are course-mates from NDA, that is the icing on the cake, of course the gentle ambling around in the green environs is the other blessing. So here I am waiting to recover fully and return to the course for suffering or rather enjoying the humiliation which this piddly golf ball inflicts on me each time, I step onto the course, but leaving me enticed for that one sweet spot driven 300 yarder, flying with that perfect trajectory landing on the green just a couple of feet away from the ‘hole, waiting for me to tap it in for a well earned birdie or even a par. Call it golfing or goofing, it is definitely addictive.